Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) (32 page)

Janela cast her spell and ordered the group into the boats. She insisted on being in the lead vessel- she would be the first victim if her spell did not take. I stayed on the beach. I would be the last to leave this hellish islet that had promised a moment’s respite and then turned on us. The boats reached the ships and the men scrambled aboard. The boats returned and somehow all of us packed ourselves aboard.

As we drew near the
Ibis
I saw four bodies, floating face down. All of them wore the ornaments, if that was what they were, like we’d seen on the man in the brush. None of them showed any marks of violence.

We got aboard, hoisted up the boats and manned the sweeps. There was enough of a wind blowing into the east to set the sails but all of us wanted to do anything, everything to speed us away from that place.

Kele shouted to look overside. I saw a crocodile surface, take one of the bodies and vanish, leaving not much more than a swirl.

“Feedin’,” Kele said. “Now, Lord Antero, since you’re knowin’ all things... was that lizard feedin’ on man... or was
man
feedin’ on man?”

I shuddered.

Quite suddenly the swamp came to an end and the river returned to a common bed, flowing through tree-dotted plains, thick brush lining its banks. Janela and I speculated about the area we’d just passed through. The Old Ones wouldn’t have their main thoroughfare suddenly turn into a mire. Something must have gone wrong. Perhaps a crucial spells had lapsed or maybe even the crocodile folk had strong earth-magic of their own to overcome the time-weakened ancient sorcery.

“That,” Janela said, “or else we stumbled into one of the Old Ones’ traps intended to snare anyone who didn’t have the proper spells or guide with them.”

No one cared. It was enough that our passage was fairly easy now with no more rowing or kedging and the wind held firm from the west. We had to keep men in the bows, however, since there were sandbars and every now and again clotted masses of vegetation that could have snared us.

The land was green and we saw small irrigation ditches leading inland from the river and not long afterward we saw scattered huts and grazing animals. A small herd came to the water’s edge to drink and gave us a chance to look at them closely. They were cattle, but most strange-looking, with high humps, sweeping horns that curled back along their sides and hair long enough to shear for wool. Every now and then we saw herdsmen, primitive-looking folk wearing skin kilts and tunics and carrying spears. But they weren’t that primitive or else traded with people who weren’t, because we saw the bright glint of iron at the spear-tips. We waved and sometimes the herders would signal back, but rather half-heartedly, as if they had little interest in our passage.

“Jus’ like a countryman,” Beran shouted over to us once, when the
Firefly
sailed nearby, “been so long since they seen anythin’ new it don’t shine through into what little brain’s they got. Don’t it make you want to go farmin’, Kele?”

Kele’s response was a rather vulgar wave.

One day we lay becalmed for an hour or so and Quatervals spotted one of the herders not far from the bank. He was seemingly unaware of us, squatting on his haunches in front of one of his animals, staring at it intently. Quatervals asked permission to go ashore and see if he could get any information from the man. I told him to take Pip to give him something new to complain about and hasten back when we signaled or the wind returned.

We lowered a boat and the two went ashore, taking some beads and fruit from the delta as presents. Pip stayed a few yards back and Quatervals approached the herder. Quatervals’ arms waved and then he squatted and began talking to the man. Evidently the conversation was unsatisfactory, because he soon got up, motioned to Pip and returned to the boat. They still carried our gifts.

Everyone swarmed them when they boarded, wanting to know what had happened, and who was the man — any bit of news that would break the routine of our journey.

Quatervals had a bemused expression. The man’s name was Vindhya, he thought. Or maybe that was his tribe — even with the Spell of Tongues the herder’s speech was hard to understand.

“And,” he added, keeping all emotion from his voice, “the cow’s name is Soenda. He introduced us.”

Janela snickered.

“Why’d he not want th’ loot,” one of the sailors asked. “Too blasted proud?”

“No. It was,” and I saw Quatervals was trying to keep a solemn expression, “because we were interfering with his worship.”

“Pardon?”

“Vindhya and his people worship cattle.”

Now there was general mirth, increased when Otavi said, “Now, that’s a rare idea. If’n y’r god doesn’t do right by you... he’s dinner. Or she, to put it the way it is here. Guess you could milk your faith for all it’s worth out here.”

Quatervals waited until the laughter subsided, then continued gamely on.

“The reason Vindhya didn’t much want to talk,” he said, “or even look at what we wanted to give him is that he was contemplating Soenda. He said it’s his favorite cow and if he spends enough time with her, being close and all,” Quatervals went on, “he’ll completely absorb all of her cowness.”

“Cowness?” I said, incredulously.

“Cowness is what he said.”

When the laughter died away again, Pip scratched thoughtfully. “Thank Te-Date we di’n’t ask what their
lovelife
mus’ be like. Damned strange it’d be, callin’ on a man, wantin’ th’ hand of his heifer. Guess we’d best keep a lookout for seein’ some half-man, half-moo li’l critters.”

That led the conversation, such as it was, into predicted depths of bawdiness. I withdrew, being too much of a gentleman to indulge in such questionable conversation.

Cowness, indeed.

* * * *

That evening Janela chanced sending a bit of her spirit back the way we came to spy on Cligus.

She’d asked my assistance in the event she was discovered. The method she used differed from the one my sister and Gamelan the great Evocator had devised. She sat crosslegged on the bare deck in the middle of a concentric circle with an eye scribed in it. Four braziers formed a square around her and sent smoke coiling around her like a snake. When she’d completed the spell I could actually
feel
her spirit leave her body. She appeared no different but I was sitting next to a husk.

Long moments passed, then she stirred and her eyes opened. They weren’t looking at me, but rather at some horror. Her hands reached out, grasping and she tried to speak but all that came was a grating gargle.

I waited no longer but cast water across the braziers; they hissed and went out. Before the last of the smoke dissipated I took the dagger that lay beside me and cut sharply across the circle. The spell was broken and Janela returned.

She was pale, shaking. I shouted for brandy and Quatervals brought some. She rinsed her mouth, spat, then swallowed a long mouthful.

“They’re coming,” she said finally. “Coming fast. They’re somewhere below the swamp.”

“They saw you,” I said.

“Modin did... and
reached
for me. He nearly had me and I was prepared to fight him, spirit against flesh on his ground, but you brought me back. Next time—”

“There will not be a next time,” I ordered. “Not like that at any rate. This expedition has but one Evocator and if she can’t find another way of reconnoitering we will travel blind.”

“Maybe the crocs’ll do for them,” Quatervals said.

Janela shook her head. “No. They’ll be unharmed. A matter of common background.” She managed a weak smile.

She was still shaken by Modin’s attack. I guessed the wizard had prepared his trap some time before. In the future we would have to take better precautions.

I helped Janela to her cabin. I helped her undress and she tumbled into bed without protest and closed her eyes. I sat holding her hand until her breath came regularly, then touched my finger to my lips and to hers. A smile came and went and I silently withdrew.

* * * *

The land became drier and rose around us until we entered a deep gorge — the stone walls reaching two or three hundred feet above us. Although the river was nearly a quarter-mile-wide the water should have rushed through the gorge like a torrent; instead, ancient magic made it flow smoothly, calmly. The current may have been stronger but so was the wind, channeled up the gorge so our sails creaked and groaned as we sped onward.

There were fish great and small in the waters around us and birds of prey to hunt them. Fisheagles with wingspan nearly the breadth of our boat dived and swooped. Once I saw a smaller hawk get too close to the water and something leapt up, took the bird and vanished before I could see if it was fish or reptile. After that, those few of my men who were still fishing when offwatch lost interest in the sport and we ate only ship’s rations.

In spite of our pursuit we sailed only by day, not wanting to chance running blind into rocks or hostiles.

The gorge wound on and I thought if we had no goal and no enemies behind us the days could have gone on forever. It was always balmy and what rain fell came in gentle showers. The mornings were soft with mist and rainbows arced over the gorge ahead of us.

At intervals there were large caves in the rocky wall — caves carved by men. Mooring bits had been cut from the rock and steps led up to where the caves had been built above the spring flood marks. I remembered the road that’d been carved into the river rock Janos and I had traveled on when we’d sought the Far Kingdoms and knew the same hands had been at work here. But then there had just been a roadway with occasional bypasses.

On this river there were small villages cut into the rock, with cubicles, little roofless houses to sleep in; open areas for markets; benches and tableaus, all marvelously worked from the gorge’s heart, each about a day’s sail apart. Travelers in those days could’ve gone from one encampment to another, never having to either sleep aboard uncomfortable ships nor chance the outdoors.

Kele had asked if we should use them for our overnight landings but there was a chorus of objections from the men. There was no need to argue with their superstitions since the river had more than enough islets to tie up to and sleep on firm ground. We posted guards with bows and chanced casting nets for our meals several times without ourselves being fished.

One night, full of a particularly fine whitefish that Maha had baked with wild mushrooms, dried tomatoes and then covered with a spicy sauce made from river shrimp caught with a bait net, Janela and I sat away from the others, talking idly. She’d taken her boots off and was drawing in the sand with a delicately-pointed foot.

“I wonder,” she said, “what my great grandfather would have been thinking, if you and he had gone on past Irayas and had sat here on this beach.”

“I doubt he would have been relaxing in the sand,” I said. “Most likely he’d be trying to cast his vision in front of us, to see what was ahead. He’d be busy trying to come up with a way to travel by night or, failing that, endlessly studying for more clues to the nature of magic. Although Janos had many virtues, appreciating slothful moments wasn’t one of them.”

“I used to be like that,” Janela said. “Then I agreed to study under a master who promised to teach me how to feel one with the world and sense how all things are linked. Since that seemed like part of my great-grandfather’s beliefs, I agreed.

“He sat me in the rain with a yellow flower and told me to study it. I saw no sense in it, but did as he commanded. For hours all I could think of was how sore my behind was, how tense my muscles were and that if I sat much longer I’d catch a chill from the rain. On the next day I determined to work harder and did. I concentrated solely on that flower. It may have helped or it may have hurt that day was fine and sunny. After some hours my mind did clear though and I could fill myself with the essence of the flower.”

“Thank whatever gods you worshipped you weren’t sitting in front of a cow,” I joked.

“It might as well have been one,” she smiled. “Several weeks passed, during which time I spoke little. My master also spoke little except to lecture me on the concentration process or, since I had also agreed to be his bodyservant and cook, to give orders.”

“I’ve heard of such philosophers,” I said. “We have a few living in the wilds beyond Orissa. I often thought of visiting them but never quite found the time.”

“I don’t know whether that was your gain or loss,” Janela said. “I learned a bit of patience from this man. I was with him for nearly four months. Then one day I realized something larger and left him that same afternoon. He was angry, saying I’d broken the agreement and I should have been prepared to spend at least five years with him and by then I would have made a choice about the rest of my life.

“But I already had one — to find the Kingdoms of the Night.”

“
That
was your greater realization?”

“No. I just wondered why my goal was to have as few thoughts as possible. Stupid people think less than intelligent people, so why would I devote five years to becoming dumber?”

I chuckled. “I’m sure,” I said, “your master disagreed.”